


Breathe with me

by elephreak



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt Peter Parker, Irondad, Panic Attacks, interwebs if you want it to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 17:21:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15912816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elephreak/pseuds/elephreak
Summary: Peter decides he’s about to be the first person to die from a panic attack. Ned decides to prove him wrong.





	Breathe with me

**Author's Note:**

> Little tiny fic posted to my tumblr- ironwebbs 
> 
> Inspired by Teen Wolfs most iconic moment.
> 
> Can be interwebs if you want it to be.
> 
>  
> 
> TW: Detailed depiction of a panic attack.

It was the calmness in his tone that had Peters heart racing.

“Kid, I’ll be okay, they are just putting me under to take a look. I’ll be out of surgery before you are out of school. You can come straight to the tower if you want, I’ll even save you a jelly cup.” Tony snickered. Peter didn’t know why he was being so composed about it all.

“But it’s your  _heart_! How can I  _not_ worry? And they want to put you under? That’s serious! Can you just not joke for a second!” he whispered down the line, head ducked into his locker, trying to have the conversation away from prying listeners in the chaotic hallways. “Are you going to be okay? I could just come now? I can make sure the doctors know what they are doing…” he knows it sounds stupid even as he says it.

Tony huffs out a laugh, “When did you get your doctorate kiddo? Must have missed that ceremony. If I see your spandex spider butt anywhere near this tower before 4pm, I’ll revoke all tv and lab privileges for a month. Do you hear me Pete?  _A month-_ ”

Peter cuts his rambling off. He knows Tony rambles when he’s nervous, when he’s hiding his real fear. “Tony.  _Please._  How bad is it?” he lowers his voice, eyes shut, tears already prickling behind his eyelids, anxiety swelling in his throat.

“Peter…”

“ _How bad?_ ”

Tony takes a breath over the line, it shudders just enough for Peter to hear it, his own breath catching as he awaits the response. “I don’t know. I don’t – They did some tests, some things didn’t look great, you know since the reactor came out, and my age, the repeated strains,  _dealing with a teenager_ …” “funny” Peter says humourlessly. “Seriously, Pete, I’m sure it will be fine, focus on smashing that Chemistry quiz today, okay? Don’t worry about me. I’ve survived worse.”

Peter hates that he can agree.

His voice dropped quieter “can you at least just get FRIDAY to update me? Or Miss Potts, I don’t care, I just want to know you’re okay.” His mind was racing with every possible worst case scenario, started already imagining the call telling him Tony didn’t make it. He blinked as hard and rapidly as he could, trying to keep the tears at bay. How did he not notice Tony was having heart problems again? How did he miss that when he listened to the mans heartbeat almost every time they hugged?

“Pete, don’t think about it. I know you will just get too far in your head. This is normal, routine even. Focus on school today, we can talk about it all once you get here.” Tony’s voice was softer now, as if he could sense Peters impending panic. “Okay, good luck” Peter whispered back, already cracking with his rising emotions.

“Love you kid”

“Love you too”

The line cut and Peter pressed the corner of the phone to his forehead, hands trembling. The noise of the hallway was washing in and out of his ears, as if he were floating, water covering and uncovering his hearing. He couldn’t lose Tony too. He couldn’t lose him. Not like he’d lost Ben. Not like how he’d lost everyone.

The panic attack slams into him brutally and unforgivingly.

His senses dial in and out, the room zooming in and spacing away around him, spinning and moving in slow motion all at once. It was like he had been caught in the barrel of a wave, tossing and turning, not knowing how to come up for air, not knowing which way was up and down.

His breath stuck behind his teeth, lungs screaming at him to open his mouth and allow the flow of oxygen. He stumbled away from his locker, phone dropping with a loud booming clatter to the ground. The sounds of chatter filled his ears and then drowned out again, the sound of pens scratching paper focuses in and then dies away, the dripping of a tap, the scuff of shoes, the screaming and laughing, the slam of lockers. He hears it all, loud and then nothing at all.

His heart is hammering the loudest. It slams so hard against his ribs he wonders for a moment if they might break under the pressure.

He feels lost.

He might lose Tony.

_Tony. Tony. Tony._

The name screams inside his head, a trembling realisation that he might have just heard the mans voice for the last time. He never got to tell him how much he meant to Peter, how grateful Peter was for everything he had done for him and May. Peter couldn’t survive without him. Couldn’t live with that grief. Peter claws at his throat desperately, trying to get any air to fill his hollowed lungs. Tony might not make it. Tony could die. Tony could leave Peter too.

“Peter! You need to breathe!  _Jesus_ ” he hears, it sounds a million miles away and like its being screamed directly into his ear at the same time.

Hands grab onto his shoulder, a fuzzy face appears in his tear filled vision. “Breathe Pete, In for one out for two, follow mine” the voice worries. Peter tries to listen, tries to do as he’s told. But he can’t. “ _I can’t_ – I’m trying, I can’t” he wheezes, head pounding, body vibrating with adrenaline.

He can feel himself being moved, his feet uselessly letting him be dragged along in familiar arms. Door hinges squeaking causes him to flinch away, sounds bouncing around in his head. The squeaking lasts a moment later, a slam follows, and suddenly it’s blissfully quiet.

Peter still can’t breathe.

His knees give out, the hands holding him follow him to the floor. “I’m going to die, I’m going to die” he sobs with a choked gasp. His lungs would give way soon. He would surely pass out. He wouldn’t even be able to find out if Tony survived his surgery because Peter was dying  _now_.

“.. can’t die from a panic attack, come on Peter, following my breaths, in and out in and out slow.”

Peter can’t match them, he’s terrified. If he doesn’t get another lungful of air he would be dead. He needed to breathe, but he couldn’t. His eyes desperately lock on to the frenzied brown ones in front of him.  _He was going to die._ He panted frantically, lungs burning with dissatisfaction. His head was spinning, eyes blurred. “Slow your breathing Peter, you need to slow down” the voice was urging, panic cutting through Peters incoherent thoughts.

He couldn’t slow down. He couldn’t do it. He was going to die on a bathroom floor, Tony was going to die on an operating table, Ben was dying on the sidewalk…

His breath was suddenly cut off. It took him a moment to realise a warmth pressing against his lips. His eyes widened in shock, his every focus suddenly zoned into the touch of lips, the cold nose pressing gently on his own, warm hands cupping his cheeks. His eyes shut as a sudden calmness settled over him like a veil.

The warmth of the lips pulls away slowly, leaving him feeling suddenly empty. He takes a moment to open his eyes again, adjusting to his heart finally slowing down, lungs sated and quiet.

Ned keeps his hands on Peters cheeks, eyes darting over Peters face, Peters breaths coming out in small puffs. He looked between Ned’s eyes and lips, confused and yet totally and completely  trusting. His panic attack had fled almost as fast as it had arrived, leaving him exhausted to the bone, relief overwhelming.

“How did you- ” he stuttered, subconsciously pressing his face into the hand on his cheek, grounding himself in the warmth. “I heard holding your breath sometimes, you know, helps with…” Ned was flushing now, eyes suddenly self-conscious. His hands drop from Peters face, Peter immediately missing their comfort.

“That was really smart” he whispers, voice still broken and cracked. “Thank you”

Ned glances down bashfully with pink cheeks. He looks back up, more steadily this time. “Are you good? Do you want to talk about it?” They were still so close, almost knee to knee. Peter had only ever felt this safe wrapped in Mays arms or pressed against Tony.

He shook his head, still feeling the wariness and fatigue from the attack. Ned smiled sadly, but nodded nonetheless.

“Want to go to the nurse for a bit? Maybe get some sugar or some Advil?” he offered. Peter thought for a moment before nodding weakly. Ned helped pull him to his feet, taking most of the weight. Peter couldn’t be more grateful for his best friend any more than he was now.

They reached the admin desk, the nurse taking one look Peters white and sweating face before scrambling around the corner and taking him off Ned’s shoulder. Beginning her turmoil of questions. Ned away turned to leave, his hand dropping from Peters waist. Peter spun around, too fast and sending his brain into a dizzy. Ned quickly caught him, helping him to find his feet again. Peter pressed forward, wrapping his arms around Ned’s body, face dropping to the taller boys neck. “Thank you, I – I really do appreciate you”

Ned wraped his arms back around Peters trembling body, squeezing once before uncoiling his arms and letting the (now smirking) nurse take Peters weight again.

Peter let himself be led to the darkened room, gratefully taking the glass of water and lying back on the hard cot. The nurse ducked out of the room for a moment, allowing Peter a moment of absolute quiet. His phone buzzed in his pocket, Ned must have slipped it back in when Peter hadn’t noticed. A text popped up on the screen causing him to cringe from the brightness of the backlight.

_TS: Decided to get a second opinion. Looks like they won’t need to operate after all. Hope you’re still up for jelly tonight, I stress made 3 bowls._

Peter huffed out a laugh, head hitting the pillow behind him. Suddenly feeling ridiculous for freaking out and causing all that panic for nothing. He lifted his phone up above his face, typing out a quick reply. 

_PP: Always up for unset, separated jelly. Mind if Ned comes too?_

It was the least he could do, Ned was always like a child in a candy store in the tower, it would make up for the stress Peter had caused, be a little ‘thank you for saving my life again’.

_TS: Fine by me, I’ll pick up that ice-cream he likes at the store_

Peter smiles, tiredness taking over. Whatever happened, he knew he always had his army there behind him, ready to help him catch his breath and find  his footing. With them, he could survive anything. 

**Author's Note:**

> come say g’day at ironwebbs


End file.
